Daddy Issues

by Viv Love

  Although I wanted more information about the horrible things that happened to my mother, I decided to drop the subject for a while. I hated to see my mom feeling sad or forcing herself to be strong. The pain in her eyes was accompanied by bags and dark circles from being tired. I could tell that she wanted to tell me everything, but I was just a little too young. In a way, I’m glad that the truth is different from what I imagined. Either way, I made up my young mind to always protect my mom and every woman I know from the horrible men in the world. In fact, I even planned to punish a man or two for my father’s transgressions. It may have been wrong to feel that way, but I needed something to fill that void. Therapists might call it daddy issues, but I call it sweet revenge.

  Chapter 2

  Vivian

  The city streets are full of noonday travelers who are either headed to lunch or to business meetings that will consume the rest of their afternoon. My day has flowed rather smoothly, so far. I’ve been able to catch up on progress notes, and I even got a chance to water the orchid I received from one of my clients. It was a small token of her appreciation for my services. After finishing all of the sessions that went along with her program plan, she was actually able to rekindle the flames in her marriage. She even got her husband to respect her more than ever before. You see, my marital counseling services are different from what couples usually receive. In fact, I don’t even meet with the husbands at all. My sessions are for the women only, and my goal is to get them to figure out how to make their husbands treat them like royalty.

  I actually used to be a traditional marriage counselor. However, after so many years of seeing my female clients hurt, abused, and disrespected, I decided to switch up my approach. In the traditional sessions, it was usually the women who set them up in the first place. Therefore, the men weren’t very cooperative at all. They were obviously there to try to avoid paying spousal and child support. Meanwhile, their eyes and demeanors showed how much they were already gone from the marriage. Each couple was allotted fifteen sessions over a six-month period. For the successful marriages, I saw improvements by the fifth session. Although that was a rare occasion, fifteen percent of the marriages actually worked.

  The other eighty-five percent of the marriages still had turmoil after the eighth session. What’s even worse is that most of the men continued to cheat on their wives. If they weren’t cheating, they were disrespecting the women by being rude, condescending, and uncooperative. The women would sometimes show up to the sessions without their husbands, because the men refused to keep trying. Rather than let their money go to waste, I would spend those last sessions trying to repair the broken women. We would discuss all of the complaints that the husbands had from weight to cooking and cleaning to sex. For each complaint, we would discuss ways to improve. Even if the marriages were dissolved, at least the women would be empowered, strong, confident, and dominant rather than weak, hurt divorcees.

  Seeing the growth in those women and the unchanging hearts of their husbands encouraged me to change my counseling techniques. My current clients are loyal, female only, and under contract. As a result, they don’t disclose the full scope of services. They simply refer other ladies to me for marriage counseling, and I do the rest. Since it’s warm out, business has been booming lately with all the men still acting up. They usually behave better in the winter time with the holiday season and all. Once the weather warms up, so do their hormones. It never fails. They fuck up at home, and then their wives get word of my counseling services and come running.

  Although my current caseload is rather full, I’m actually pretty much free for the rest of the day. It looks like I’ll have time to go to the queendom before heading home. In fact, I’m probably going to go on and shut it down now and head out.

  “Excuse me, Vivian. I have a woman here that’s in desperate need of your platinum services. She’s willing to pay in full today,” Maria buzzes my phone as I’m gathering my belongings to leave the office.

  “Did you explain the process to her?”

  “Yes, ma’am... She knows how it works. She says she was referred by a previous client whose husband learned his lesson, thanks to Queen.”

  Is Maria really mentioning Queen over the intercom? Who the hell could this mystery person be? Furthermore, which one of those bitches will I have to tame for opening their mouths?

  “Send her back, please.”

  Maria knows how discreet I am when it comes to Queen. If she’s disclosing that much information, this better be good. While I’m mentally sorting through my client list to find the weakest link, the mystery shopper knocks lightly on the door. I shift nervously in my seat before greeting her. I’ve never been nervous meeting a client before, but I suddenly feel hot. I manage to tell her to come in, between the short breaths I’m taking. When the door opens, a tall, slim woman appears. She has a dark complexion, and she’s sporting long dreads that reach halfway down her back. Her body is athletic, her smile is radiant and calming, and her eyes are intoxicating. I clear my throat before speaking.

  “Ahem… Good afternoon. As you know, I’m Vivian McQueen. And, you are?”

  The visitor extends her hand to shake mine. I notice that her nails are perfectly manicured, and there’s a tan line where her wedding band once was. She gives me a slow, seductive once-over that makes me even more nervous than before. What the fuck is it about this damn woman? I’m not attracted to her. Shit, I’m just really fucking nervous for some reason.

  “Hi Vivian. You can call me Mrs. Black for now.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Black. How may I help you?”

  “You’ve helped me enough by providing this service to women who have been hurt. I’ve actually come here to help you.”

  “Help me? Well, I work independently. I’m not looking for a partner. However, if you’d like my counseling services, I need you to fill out this packet. Once it’s completed, I’ll be able to determine your level of need.”

  When I try to hand the packet to Mrs. Black, she turns her head and walks to my oversized bay window. As she stands in my favorite spot, gazing sixteen floors down at the busy streets on the corner of Spring Street and Fannin Street, I notice that she’s rather tall. In fact, she’s taller than the average woman. Her presence has really taken ownership in my office.

  “You’re welcome to have a seat, Mrs. Black. Would you care for a bottle of water?” I offer in an attempt to regain control of my office.

  “Thanks, but I actually like this view much better,” she replies.

  Surprisingly, she accepts the bottle of water and takes a sip.

  “Oh… kay… well… Who referred you to me? I’d love to send them a thank-you card.”

  While I await a response, Mrs. Black continues to peer down at the busy traffic. I can’t help but feel like she has a familiarity about her. I need her to give me some type of clue to jog my memory. After a brief silence, she finally decides to speak.

  “A thank-you card won’t be necessary. I’ll consider completing your little packet on my next visit. I have to run right now. My afternoon appointment awaits. I just wanted to meet you in person. Is this your card?” she asks, as she reaches for the stack of business cards on my desk.

  “Yes. Please help yourself to one. When would you like for us to pencil you in for your appointment? We typically don’t take walk-ins.”

  “I don’t know just yet. I’ll be sure to give you a buzz after I’ve checked my schedule. Tootles…” Mrs. Black says as she disappears through my office door.

  Her perfume and presence have me torn between being mesmerized and trapped in a state of shock. Luckily, she left the half-empty bottle of water on the windowsill. I’ll get Medgar to process her fingerprints immediately. I need to find out who the hell she is as soon as I can. I also need to know which one of my clients will be punished for breaching our confidentiality policy. There isn’t one client on my roster who doesn’t know about the Queendom. In the brochure, they see the beautiful spa, waterfalls, wor
kout facilities, fine dining, and a beautiful mansion, and they immediately want to sign up. I take the time to explain the details of the mystery mansion, and I even offer them a tour before they choose their package. They sign their contract first, so I don’t worry about them disclosing details of the Queendom. Even if they opt of Queen’s platinum services, they are still subject to a private party if they break any of our rules.

  My close friend, Medgar, owns a small private investigation firm a few blocks over on Edwards Street. We have been working together for years. He used to conduct investigations for me when the wives felt like their husbands were cheating on them. He also checked the women out for me, too. I liked to know that I could fully trust every word my clients said. Sometimes, Medgar and I stretched the law a bit, so I just made him a regular on my payroll. My clients pay me really well. Therefore, I can take care of him with ease. His substantial salary also gives me the power to get my paperwork processed quickly. I need to drop this water bottle off to him immediately. I must know who Mrs. Black is and who sent her. It seems as though a lucky lady will be visiting the Queendom pretty soon.

  Chapter 3

  Cheyenne

  Marissa and I have been co-owners of Xpressions Nail Spa for almost ten years. We met at cosmetology school back in 2006, and we’ve been tight ever since. We attended Red River Beauty School, and I graduated as the valedictorian. Marissa was the salutatorian. Since we both were top nail technicians in school, we spent a lot of time working together and training the newer students. I guess our business relationship was destined to happen. Since going into business together, everything has been virtually perfect between us. We have never had any financial issues, and our families have pretty much combined. If either of us are absent from work, we don’t mind if the other one sees our clients. Our relationship is just cool like that.

  Overall, my life is good. My love life is even picking up. Since I broke up with my crazy ex, I have been too scared and too busy to try to date anyone else. Marissa has been dating some mystery guy, so she hasn’t had much time for girl talk. It’s cool though, because I actually joined a dating site a couple of months ago. About a week after I joined, a guy named TD&H began sweating me. I’ve communicated with him, and he seems really nice. We actually plan to meet this weekend. I just hope his screen name stands for Tall, Dark, & Handsome instead of Tired, Dirty, & Hurt. Furthermore, I pray that his appearance matches my hopes for his name. I usually don’t go on blind dates, but I haven’t had much luck with the guys I’ve seen. I figured I’d switch up my approach to see how that turns out.

  My computer love and I have had great conversations for the past couple of months. His real name is Miguel. He lives in Chicago and works a lot. That’s why he hasn’t been able to make time to see me. He’s finally going to be free this weekend, so he’s flying to Louisiana to see me. We’re meeting at a local restaurant. I wish Marissa could be in the restaurant during my date, but she won’t be in town. She usually sits at a nearby table on first dates just in case something pops off. She’s going to see her family in Tacoma, Washington this weekend for a reunion. She asked me to go with her, but I didn’t want to miss a chance to meet my new boo.

  Anyway, I’m forced to be a big girl and go on my date solo. I’m kind of anxious to meet him. I hope this fool isn’t cross-eyed like the guy Ishmael that my aunt tried to push off on me. She claims she didn’t know his eyes were messed up. I told her that she should have known something was wrong if his ass sat in church wearing shades every Sunday. I damn sure hope he doesn’t stutter like Stanley, the cop that works as a security guard at my mom’s school. I can imagine how his ass sounds trying to tell somebody why the hell he stopped them. Now, he could be sexy like Willie the artist that worked with my cousin. He could even be cute like Idris or fine like Ghost.

  Regardless of his appearance, I don’t plan to give up the nookie on the first date. However, I do need to schedule an appointment for a bikini wax just in case. Hell, it’s been over six months, and I have needs. I can only use so many damn sex toys from the L.O.V.E. Adult Toy Line. I’m gonna fuck around and get electrocuted with all the damn electrical currents flowing through my bath water every night. I often imagine that I’m lying in the arms of my computer love as he rubs vigorously on my clit until I cum in the warm, lavender scented bath water.

  Miguel is half-Dominican and half-Black, which is basically fully black with a bit of Hispanic in the mix. He says he works out at least four days a week, and he enjoys playing basketball. If all of this is true, I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to resist mounting him this weekend. Let’s just hope his ass isn’t catfishing me though. I’ve heard so many stories about big fat greasy ass dudes posting profile pictures of sexy men and pretending to be them. They woo the women with great personalities, and then they show up on dates in hopes that their inner beauty prevails. Well, call me shallow, but I need to at least like the outside beauty if I’m going to date somebody. I mean, I’m not perfect by any means, but I would like to be able to at least find the banana to insert it in my split. I can’t be digging all through crevices for the treasure. I’m sorry, but that’s just not my thing.

  Miguel’s profile picture is an image of the African flag. My profile picture is the outline of Africa with the black fist in the middle. That’s what made him reach out to me. We share similar interests in our people and our culture. We agreed that we wouldn’t exchange pictures until after we have seen each other. I didn’t mind this because I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway. Even if he’s not my type, we can still keep each other company with discussions of our African history. He’s even teaching me some stuff about his Dominican side. If he’s not crazy, I’m even willing to meet him in the Dominican Republic to explore the culture and taste the authentic food. I’ve had plantains here at a Dominican restaurant on the lake, and they weren’t too bad. Miguel swears that his abuela is the best at cooking them.

  When he gets here on Friday, we’re going to meet at Sister’s Seafood to give him a taste of some good ole Louisiana soul food. I’ve talked about the tartar sauce so much that he plans to take jar home with him. I recommend that he tries the stuffed shrimp, rice and gravy, and buttery toast. I don’t know how the hell those women make toast so damn good, but I can eat it dipped in tartar sauce all day long. Hell, I hated rice and gravy until one of the older waitresses that has been with them since the beginning forced me to try theirs. Now, when I don’t feel like cooking, I swing by and grab their special at least once a week.

  After we finish eating, I’m going to show him how to play poker at one of the casinos in Bossier. He’s never gambled before, but he’s willing to learn. He hopes that beginner’s luck will earn him some extra cash. I’ll probably let him play around on 3-Card Poker for a while. I’m afraid of introducing him to the poker room. He might run into some millionaire that will bully the table and take his money. Most of the people who play in the poker room are regulars. They’ll quickly realize that Miguel is a newcomer, and they’ll likely handle him badly. I’m not trying to ruin his time here. We might skip the casino altogether and just chill at Jazzy’s Lounge. He’s from Chicago, so I’m sure he can swing dance. We can take over the dance floor with some smooth ass dipping and swaying while the band performs. If he can guide me on the dance floor, there’s no telling what he can do in the bedroom.

  That reminds me - I need to go on and schedule that appointment with Senoj for a full body waxing. She works in the shop with us, and she’s a bad ass esthetician. We met in college, and I promised her a job when she got her license. Our relationship started out as business, but we quickly became friends. She works with Marissa and me part-time. She also works with her friends at their make-up bar and photography studio. Her friend, DeToya, is a celebrity make-up stylist, and the other one, DeShun, is professional photographer. They actually have a cool setup. That’s why I don’t mind her splitting her time between us.

  My cousin Shirea owns a limo servi
ce. Since Marissa can’t discreetly join me on my date. I can at least ask Shirea to have one of her guys to drive us around. That will at least lessen my chances of being kidnapped. I have too much to live for, and I’m not trying to die in an effort to find love. I know love hurts, but I damn sure don’t need it to be fatal. Shirea has some heavy hitters on her team, so I’m sure she’ll send one of the Cooper Road boys on this job.

  Her homeboy, PJ, is very chill and handsome. He has a great smile, a thick beard, and he even wears braces. He dresses really nice and seems like a regular dude. What most people don’t know is that he is as crazy as they come, and he’s rumored to have a body or two floating in the Red River. If she sends him as my driver, Miguel’s ass better not even sneeze wrong. Once I finish up at the shop, I’m going to call my girls to get everything lined up for the weekend. I’m looking forward to seeing what it will bring.

  Chapter 4

  Marissa

  For some reason, I’m rather excited about seeing my family for a few days. It’s been a while since I even attended a family reunion. With business picking up at the salon, I haven’t had time to even think about the leaving the city. Now, I’m not complaining, though. More business means more money. More money means we can finally finish the renovations at the salon. Thanks to those needed renovations, I met the new love of my life. His name is Tyrone, and he is everything that I crave in a man and more! Luckily, Cheyenne wasn’t able to join me to meet the contractors a few months ago. If she had been there, I’m sure Tyrone would have chosen her 5’9” athletic frame over my 5’5” thick frame. Don’t get it twisted, I’m fine as wine, honey. However, some men prefer Cheyenne’s long legs and chocolate skin over my sexy caramel self. I’m not hating, because neither of us have had the best luck with men. Therefore, her long legs saved me a few bumps and bruises along the way.